A New Beginning for Nottingham
by Heather Christine
Summary: A short prelude that might become more, this is an AU for season 3, had Marian lived. Robin and Marian are settling into Locksley, but their happy ending, along with that of their friends, may not be completely won yet: old wounds and new troubles must be dealt with to see their country completely restored to peace.
1. Too Soon

The target was several yards ahead, its bright red centre glowing in the midday sun. The wood of the bow felt cool and smooth in her fingers. Marian raised the bow with the arrow loaded, the feathered quiver shaking in her unsteady grip. She could feel the tension in the string tighten all the way to her stomach as the wound stretched over her muscles. She ignored the stretch of skin as she aimed, pulling the string taut, and finally released the arrow with the slip of her finger. She let out a gasp as her muscles relaxed. The arrow landed on the bottom ring of the target.

Marian closed her eyes as if to block out the poor result. Not yet.

"Marian!" She whirled around at the notes of worry in that familiar voice as Robin rushed across the field to her side. "You shouldn't be this far out in your condition." He gently turned her to face him with his hands cupping her elbows.

"I'm fine!" she scowled back. She glanced at the target, with the lone arrow so far from its mark. "I just wish this silly bow would know that."

A playful smile replaced the furrowed brow on Robin's expression. "You've got to give it time," he said as he pulled her close, resting his chin on her hair. Marian leaned into his embrace, though her arms rested at her sides, one hand still clutching the bow. He whispered into her hair, "This is the second time you've come back from the dead. Your strength was never going to return overnight."

Marian pushed away from him. "But it's been weeks!" she cried. Her frustration grew as Robin continued to stand there, just smiling at her as if she was a little girl and not the woman of nobility who had saved the king in the Holy Land.

She took a deep breath as another familiar stab came to her stomach when she pushed herself too hard. It traveled through her core straight to her back. Robin cradled her elbow as she instinctively put her hands to her stomach, dropping the bow to the ground.

Maybe it was too soon. It was always too soon.

She knew the injury was still healing. Djaq had performed magic as she skillfully sewed up the wound left by Guy's sword. Still, though the red had faded to a deep purple, the scar had not changed much beyond that. She was so tired of being cooped up in Locksley with so little to do—and being able to do so little.

She looked up at Robin, his eyes full of concern. She could tell he was not deeply worried, though, and she had to smile back. "I'm alright," she breathed. "You're right, I should not be outside so far from the manor. Shall we go back?"

They walked arm-in-arm back to the house. Marian's hand clutched the crook of his elbow and she felt his strength through his richly embroidered tunic. Gone were the grubby hooded shirts from the forest. Instead he wore clothes befitting the restored Lord of Locklsey, dyed with rich shades of nobility. It didn't quite suit him, though. Despite the garments being perfectly tailored, Marian always thought Robin preferred the loose hoods of his outlaw days. She smiled to herself, picturing his unkempt hair that was his regular style only months ago.

"Oh, a smile, now? Only moments ago you looked like you were going to bite my head off!"

Marian swatted at him with her free hand. "I was not that bad!"

Robin smiled back. "No," he said, as he led her to the wooden bench he had had brought outside for her. It overlooked Nettleston village and gave Marian another place to rest, rather than being stuck inside the manor. As they sat, Marian was glad for her loose tunic. It would be awhile yet before she was ready to wear corsets again, let alone any fine dresses appropriate for the Lady of Locksley.

"I know how much you want to be back to normal," Robin said as he put his arm around her. Marian leaned her head back against his shoulder and murmured in contentment. Robin kissed her temple and then rested his head upon hers as he continued.

"I've received word from King Richard. He'd like me to join him in London."

Marian sat up and turned to look at him. "London? For how long? What need does he have of you there?"

Robin pulled Marian back into his embrace, and she sat back again with little resistance. "I'm not sure, entirely. I know he is trying to restore order to his court, and reinstating the nobles whom his brother cast out is the first step. Perhaps he will create new titles," Robin added.

Marian could hear the glimmer in his voice. "And what makes you think you might be worthy of such a title?" she teased. "Barely back at Locksley, and already you want more. I've always said you just wanted the glory." Marian felt the squeeze of his arm around her shoulders in reply.

"I can't refuse," Robin continued. They both knew that the invitation was a thinly veiled command from the king. "I can delay my travel, though." Robin's free hand took Marian's left hand, and he rubbed the ruby ring on her fourth finger with his thumb. The king's ring.

"I am not so weak that you need fear leaving my side," Marian protested.

"Always so vain, out to prove yourself! And you say I want all the glory," Robin laughed. "No, I don't doubt your strength. Despite your premature target practice"—Robin nodded towards the field—"I fear more for myself than for you." Marian smiled, knowing that was the closest he would come to a sentimental confession of love. The truth was, they had not been apart since their return from the Holy Land and King Richard's restoration to the throne. Since they were technically married, they had both moved into Locksley manor, now that Guy and Sheriff Vaisey were no longer in power. Knighton Hall had been burned, so there was nowhere else for Marian to go. They still wanted to have a proper wedding, with a celebration for the village, but it would have to wait until Marian was in good health. And so, Robin and Marian enjoyed the few weeks of quiet at Locksley before the chaos came of restoring Nottingham, and the rest of England, to a time of peace under King Richard. The whole country seemed to be in a state of healing before the time of true celebration and change.

"I'm not saying I want you to leave," Marian said as she caught his hand with hers and intertwined their fingers, "but there is not much to be missed here. I can surely look after the villagers, and there are not any wedding preparations to be made any time soon. This might be the best time to see what the king wants." Marian sighed. "In all honesty, it's so quiet around here. You could write me all the excitement that's happening at court. Admit it, you'd love to see what's happening in London. So far the life of a lord has not been nearly as dramatic as the life of an outlaw or a crusader."

Robin drew Marian into his arms in a full embrace and smiled. "Perhaps not, but the life of a husband has been by far the best." His scruffy chin scratched her cheek and Marian drew back enough to turn her head and allow his lips to find hers.


	2. Haunted

Robin lay on his back as he stared at the timber beams of the bedroom ceiling, automatically straining to hear any sounds of danger. He couldn't remember a time when he didn't have to remain attentive through the night. Within the walls of Locksley, all he could hear was the crackle of the fire's embers, and the stillness unnerved him. He gave up on sleep, got up, and placed a log on the fire.

Since his return home, Robin had not been able to sleep on the soft mattress of the four-poster bed. His years away had accustomed him to a rustic bed of leaves or sand against the hard ground, and his restless mind rarely gave him the hours of uninterrupted sleep that he at least wished for Marian. Not wanting to disturb her, he claimed a straw-filled pallet on the floor at the foot of the bed instead. He also worried about aggravating her wound with his own restlessness or with a rushed intimacy that would be better saved for after their "proper" wedding. Still, in his sleepless hours of solitude, it helped to be near her, to hear her even breaths as a reassurance that all would be well.

As Robin focused on the sound of her sleep to chase away the non-existent dangers, Marian began to whimper, tossing in the bed. He jumped to her side and held her head in his hands. "Marian, my love," he whispered over and over, louder and louder, as he stroked her temples until she awoke. She sat upright in a cold sweat as her eyes searched the room, frantic, until they settled on Robin. "Another dream?" he asked. She nodded, and that was all the communication necessary as he drew her into his arms.

Marian was past the danger of reopening the wound in any fitful turns, but it pained Robin to see her battling such inner demons. He knew all too well the monsters that came in the night, especially after time spent defending the king in the Holy Land.

"I'm alright," Marian whispered. She cleared her throat to make her voice louder, to sound the part of confidence that she did not feel. "It was just a silly dream. I can't even recall what about." She turned away from Robin's searching eyes and lay down on her pillow. She dare not tell him about the figure that haunted her dreams, made even more menacing by the ambiguities of the night in a mind fogged with sleep.

It was infuriating that she could not forget. Guy, rushing on her with a knife that grew into a sword, a pain throbbing in her belly until it stabbed so sharply she would wake up convinced he was standing over her. Taunting her, but with that look of betrayal in his eyes that haunted her more than anything else so that she couldn't tell if the pain in her stomach was from a physical injury or overwhelming guilt.

Robin climbed into the bed beside her, wrapping his arms around her as he drew her to himself, the back of her shoulders pressed to his chest. Her warmth comforted him, and he resisted the urge to squeeze her tight, as if he could keep her in this realm, safe from the nightmares. Marian clasped his arms in her hands, pressed to her chest, and with this reassurance of his presence, willed herself to fall back to sleep. She would be master of herself and her dreams.


	3. A Welcome Visit

The light of the early afternoon streamed in through the solar's windows, streaked across the wooden floors, and chased away the ghosts of the night. Marian rested in the window seat with her sewing in hand, the thin needle weaving through the threads of her embroidery. She had become skilled in the delicate work, using it as a cover while under the watchful eye of Sheriff Vaisey at the castle. Men were far less suspicious of a woman who performed her unthreatening feminine craft, and Marian found freedom in the guise that allowed the soldiers to dismiss her notice. Sometimes she even hid messages, and the tidier the stitches, the less chance of discovery.

In the solitude of the solar, Marian's sewing was just busywork away from bustle of the great hall below. She longed to be active, and hated how the slow return of her health kept her imprisoned still, even in the coziness of Locksley. She felt fine, save for the stabbing reminder of her wound at any attempt at real activity. The growing pile of embroidered pieces beside her, waiting to decorate pillows or footstools, gave a pretense of purpose, but Marian was ready to move on.

The crunch of gravel under hooves gave Marian the excuse to toss her needlework aside. She snatched her shawl and threw it across her shoulders as she rushed down the stairs to greet the riders.

"Marian!" Robin cried after he dismounted and entered the hall. "See who's come for dinner—the Sheriff of Nottingham!" Marian's breath caught in her throat as she locked eyes with Robin, who's smile disappeared when he saw her face. In a moment her fears proved unfounded as she saw Much enter close behind, dressed in his own regal uniform without a scarf in sight.

"Much!" Marian cried as she rushed to greet their dear friend and carefully wrapped her arms around him. Much placed his hands on her waist and then thrust them back at his sides. "Don't worry, you can't break me," Marian laughed as she pulled away.

"Robin, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Marian scolded as she swatted his arm. Robin rubbed his neck and gave her a sheepish smile, then turned to stand at her side and face Much as he put his arm around her waist. "Welcome to Locksley," Robin gave his own greeting as the rightful lord to his noble guest. "And may I present my wife." He whispered in Marian's ear, "I can call you that?" Marian whispered back playfully to him alone, "Well, you did share my bed last night."

The teasing, meant to be lighthearted, held a sad aftertaste of the haunted nights and their not-quite-yet relationship. Robin turned to Much before he could see the sadness in Marian's smile. "Come upstairs, and you can tell us the details over a cupful of wine or two."

Up in the solar, the three friends sat gathered around the fire in their individual wooden seats, a luxury of the manor. Marian thanked the serving girl Lucy for the drinks and then turned to Much as they were left alone.

"First, Earl of Bonchurch and now Sheriff of Nottingham!" Marian exclaimed as an invitation for Much to divulge his news.

"Can you believe it?" Much asked, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees, his eyes bright. "Who would have thought this would be us a few months ago? Covered in sand and Marian…" he trailed off, realizing the tactless direction of his conversation. "I mean—"

Robin smiled. "Yes, it's been quite the journey. In all honesty, I thought I'd never see Locksley again. Do you think it's changed for the better?"

Much sat back as he regained his composure. "It was waiting for a lady's touch. I mean, Robin's lady's touch, not Guy's. I mean, your touch, Maid Marian. I mean, Lady Marian." Much threw back his head and drained his goblet.

Marian replied, "There's still so much to do, but I'm glad things have turned out the way they have. I still remember how close I was to being here under very different circumstances." She reached out and squeezed Robin's hand, a small gesture that was slowly becoming normal for them. "I am ready to make some improvements, and open up Locksley to the villagers, but I'm not quite ready to jump into everything. But you—Sheriff! Are you living at the castle?"

"Yes, which has to be the most bizarre experience. I still catch myself calculating how to sneak in and out under the notice of the guards!"

Marian laughed. "I'm sure you will restore it to peace and openness, like the time of my father," she said.

"Here, here! To the best man for the job!" Robin said, raising his goblet in Much's direction.

Much ran his fingers through his loose hair, free of the caps and scarves of his outlaw days. "I hope you're right. I might need some help from time to time, but I hope I can drop in on you both."

Robin sat forward in his seat, leaning in towards his friend. "You know I'll give you all the support I can, but I don't know that I'll always be here. King Richard has summoned me to London, and I'm not sure how long I'll be gone. Though I imagine I will be traveling back and forth often enough."

"Oh, yes! For the trials," Much affirmed.

"Trials? In London?" Marian asked, searching Much's expression and then Robin's. "You didn't mention those."

Robin took a deep breath before answering, "Given the special nature of Vaisey's betrayal, he will be tried for treason in London, but it should be a straightforward process. No one can deny his actions, and though there would be countless witnesses, only a few will be required. Guy's trial on the other hand… It's more complicated, since he was acting under the orders of the Sheriff."

"Guy's trial? I thought that would be taken care of here in Nottingham," Marian replied, her voice quiet as she sat against the back of her chair.

"Richard wants to deal with those who were in the Holy Land himself," Robin explained.

"I've been asked to send my testimony in writing, as I am needed here in Nottingham," Much added.

"Yes. Your service to the king—and me—has had you justly appointed Sheriff of our dear county!" Robin said with a wink, eager to change the topic. But Marian was quiet, looking into her empty goblet.

Eyes still glued to the rim of her cup, she asked, "You're not going to be part of the trial against Guy, are you?" She looked up at Robin.

Robin squeezed her hand. "…No," he said at last. "No, I'm too involved. But the king has taken into account the… facts of our dealings with Guy."

Much looked from Marian to Robin and back again. "Have you told her?"

"Told me what?"

"The king might request your testimony in writing." Robin shifted in his chair under Marian's gaze. "You will not be required to be at London, of course, but you know the proof of his final decision. You gave him his last chance to protect the king, and you know how he decided. He had his chance to separate himself from Vaisey, and instead…"

"Instead, he tried to kill me," Marian finished. The fact that Marian had tried to purchase Guy's loyalty with the promise of marriage hung in the air as an unspoken scar of that time of lawlessness.

"I must help in any way I can. If my testimony is needed, I will give it." Marian tried to smile at Robin and Much, but it felt weak. "More wine?" she said as she rose toward the pitcher left on the stand by the doorway.

Much and Robin nodded in agreement and held their goblets up as she poured.

Returning to her chair, Marian teased, "I've never seen such gloomy faces in such a happy time!"

"It's just… harder to return to peace than I expected," Much confessed. "Don't you feel like you've done less for England in the last few months than in all those years in the Holy Land, or in the forest? How is that possible?"

Robin stood up and walked closer to the fire, in between Marian and the hearth. He took her hand and rubbed his thumb across her clasped fingers. "I think once things are settled in London, we'll be able to return to the prosperity of the time before Prince John. And then"—he grabbed Marian's hands and lifted her up to stand beside him—"we'll have the wedding of the century!"

Marian laughed, truly happy, and grateful that the tug of her skin across her belly was barely noticeable. Things would return to normal. They _were_ returning to their new normal.


End file.
